Smile
by WaitingForNoExit
Summary: It's the way Dean smiles that really makes him look good. It's a million-dollar smile, the kind you'd expect on a movie star or a politician, not on a scarred kid from Lawrence, Kansas. Wincest. Spoilers up to 5x22 Swan Song. Rated for language.


It's the way Dean smiles that really makes him look good. It's a million-dollar smile, the kind you'd expect on a movie star or a politician, not on a scarred kid from Lawrence, Kansas. And it's reserved for John, and John alone, the bitter, grizzled father watching his son in a rare moment of peace, him and his two sons at a park in Oregon somewhere, Sammy in a swing as Dean pushes his four year old brother, looking happier than he's looked in a long time.

He grins at his dad, eyes brightening as Sam laughs, face crinkling up as he wriggles, Dean pushing him higher every time. And it's moments like these that John loves, because underneath all the shit that's been piled on top of them, they have this. They have each other; Dean has Sam and they both have their father, and no matter how many times John leaves his boys alone or with Bobby, he'll come back. He's their dad, and he loves them. And he sees Dean transfer that grin to Sammy, and he knows that no matter what, his boys will have each other.

Dean's nineteen the first time he gives someone else that smile, someone who isn't family. Her name is Rhonda Hurley, and she's gorgeous. She's _gorgeous_, and she's his first real girlfriend. The first one he isn't just using for sex, or for eye candy. She's pretty, and funny, and doesn't seem to care that Dean's currently living in a hotel and sharing a bed with his little brother. She's also pretty easy, but that's a plus. That's definitely a plus.

Rhonda's also kinky. And Dean never tells anyone (or, at least, he tells himself, but that's a different and confusing story that doesn't need to be told) that he likes it. He likes it kinky, and he likes being led around and directed and commanded and _used_, and Rhonda is perfectly happy with that, especially when he gives her that _smile_. And so the pink, satiny panties scene went down, and Dean kept that memory and a few others from his month or so with Rhonda tucked away in the back of his head, because he knows there isn't always going to be porn at his disposal.

He's twenty-two the next time he uses that smile, and it's the night before the worst day of his life, the one where Sammy runs off to Stanford and leaves Dean alone. They're sitting on the hood of the Impala, Sam curled back on the windshield, leaning against his older brother slightly, their hands almost touching. Dean doesn't think anything of it; his eyes are on the stars. His eyes are on the everything that reaches out ahead of them, and although he only has the vaguest idea of where they are (Texas, maybe, or Alabama), he's happy out here with Sam, their dad on a hunt with an old friend. They're parked in an old field out past the edge of town, and Sam speaks, his voice not quite finished developing yet. "Do you ever get bored?"

"Bored like how?"

"Like… tired of always driving. Of always going everywhere. Of being stuck in the Impala or in a hotel room forever…" Sam trails off, his voice low and awkward. "Of just… hunting. I mean, it's… we don't even have a home we can go back to, Dean."

"We have Bobby's," Dean offers, looking at his little brother and then leaning back on the windshield beside him, paying no attention to the arm Sam has splayed across the glass, leaning his head against it gently. "And hunting… it's always changing. So I don't get bored."

"Maybe bored is the wrong word." Sam tilts his head to the side; even though he's younger than his brother, he's already as tall as Dean, and he can look him in the eyes with no problem. "It's more like… hollow, maybe. Restless."

Dean arches an eyebrow and asks Sam a question he's never figured he'd have to, leaning in closer to his little brother with the corner of his mouth pulling up slightly, the only indication that he's uncomfortable with asking. "Sammy, are you depressed?"

"No. No… I'm not depressed." Sam shrugs, fingers playing with the short hair at the back of Dean's neck absently before he smiles vaguely, watching Dean. "Never mind. I didn't think you'd get it."

Dean shoots his winning smile, leaning into Sam's touch and nodding slightly. "I've got your back, Sammy. If you need something, I'm here."

Sam just nods and there's something different in his eyes, something Dean doesn't recognize, but he brushes it off and doesn't mention it again.

And then the next day, Sammy's gone. And Dean's alone in a way he hasn't been alone before, because his brother is gone, and Dean hardly knows what life without Sam is. It feels like a piece of himself was cut out. It hurts. It's a while before Dean smiles again. He grows up the day Sam leaves, and it's an abrupt jolt into maturity; for the twenty-two year old with a GED and a give 'em hell attitude, losing Sam is one of the worst things that can happen.

It's four years before he sees Sammy again, and when he does, he can't stop smiling. It's serious, definitely, but it's his _brother_, it's his_ Sam_, and Dean can't stop grinning just for that. He's taller, he's still scrawny as hell, and he still sounds like puberty hasn't quite finished with him yet, but god, does he look good. Dean can't keep himself from grinning.

After that, though, it's a while before he smiles again. It's a while before he can bring himself to. He loses his dad, and that takes its toll on him, but at least he still has Sam. At least he has his brother now.

And then he loses Sam.

It breaks him.

He doesn't smile for a while after that, not even when he gets Sam back. Or, rather, he smiles and it's fake, it's forced, it isn't his megawatt movie star smile, because he's not Dean anymore, not really. Hell takes the rest of what was once Dean Winchester out of him and leaves him dead inside, and he's reminded of it by Famine, and it hurts him even more. And he doesn't smile, hardly, because on top of the pain of everything else, he's still going to lose his Sam again. It fucking _hurts_.

So the last thing he does, curled up in the hotel room with Sam sleeping in the bed across from him, the night before everything is set to end, the night before they go to Detroit… Dean slides out from underneath his own covers, walks over to Sam's bed, and pulls his brother's comforter back, sliding in beside the younger man and resting his head against his chest.

Sam wakes up immediately, and Dean sees his eyes widen in the dark before he speaks, his voice low and quiet, and it reminds Dean of the night on the hood of the car. Only Sam's bigger now, and he's not a scrawny little kid, he's a grownup, and he's making his own decisions and although those decisions will be the death of Dean, he'll support Sammy no matter what. "What are you doing?"

Dean shakes his head, and for a split second Sam sees nothing but fear in his older brother's eyes before Dean leans forward, pressing his forehead to Sam's and shrugging a bit. "It's your last night, Sammy. There's no fucking way I'm letting go of you right now."

Sam smiles and it's sad, and it radiates some of the loneliness, some of the _desperation_ that Dean feels on a daily basis, and without thinking, because it feels oh so fucking right, he kisses Dean, and it's not a brotherly kiss. It's not a Rhonda Hurley kiss, either, though; it's a definite Sam kiss, a certain musk lingering there that Dean knows is all his brother's. Dean kisses back automatically, eyes slipping closed as he rests against Sam, a hand twisting in his brother's shirt.

They fuck, make love, whatever, right there, right then, and Sam guides Dean through it, tells him what to do, essentially controls him, and Dean knows that since they've been kids, Sammy's been the one pulling the strings, and tomorrow, that stops. Tomorrow, Dean's not going to have his baby brother to lead him along. He's not going to be an obedient little soldier. That alone nearly kills him, and as Sam's fingers dig into his back, as his brother hits his climax, Dean kisses him, because it will be the first and last time he'll ever do this.

And he gives Sam that smile, that million-dollar movie star/politician smile, the one that doesn't belong on a scarred, broken kid from Lawrence, Kansas. It's a smile that's reserved for Sam, and Sam alone.


End file.
